


Why Build

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-06
Updated: 2006-03-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley can’t have what he wants.  AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Build

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur and bad effort, not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel. Sadly the guys aren’t mine; I’m only borrowing.

Warnings – This is a darkfic, but not quite as dark as I intended it to be. What can I say, I was in a good mood.

Author's note:  
The paragraphs in italics are Wesley's emotional thoughts, the unitalicized paragraphs are his logical thoughts. It's almost like two stories; if you read all the italicized paragraphs in order they make sense just like if you read all the unitalicized paragraphs in order they make sense. 

The italics in the unitalicized paragraphs are to show that Wesley's emotional thoughts are breaking into his logical thoughts in a way he can't control.

 

**Why Build?**

 

_It hurts. Why does it hurt so much? To every day be so close to the person you love and to know that they not only will not, but cannot return your love, it hurts._

Ever since the moment we met, I loved him, though at first I didn’t want to. _it hurts_ A watcher falling in love with a vampire? Absurd, utterly ridiculous. Yet also inescapably true.

_He doesn’t even care anymore. He used to before. Before Connor...but now he doesn’t care and it’s all my fault._

I started working with him after I was in effect fired from being a watcher. _my fault_ I became his right-hand man, his major domo, his stooge, his lapdog. I became his.

_It doesn’t matter anymore though, Connor is back, and all is basically well. But still he blames me; I can see it in his eyes. I sometimes see his gaze drift to the jagged scar on my neck and I know what he’s thinking. I know._

Then he fired us. Me, Cordelia, Gunn, _I know_ threw us all in the street to “protect us”. Bullshit.

_Sometimes at night I wonder why Gunn and Fred didn’t let him finish the job when he came into my hospital room the night I took Connor. Just a few more minutes under that pillow and everything would have been so much better._

Then he came back, _better_ and I was the boss. I called the shots and he was the lapdog. But that couldn’t last and over time we lapsed into our old roles. And then there was Connor.

_What am I fighting for now? He’ll never see me as anything but the man who took his little boy. But I’m the boy now and I’m tired of fighting._

Connor changed him. He was happy again, _tired_ really happy. Everything was wonderful. It was almost as if Connor had made him live again. Then I found the prophecy

_God but I love him. If only he felt the same way maybe I could go on, but he doesn’t notice me. Not even now as I pull away from the world does he see. But it’s my fault, and I’ve ruined so many things for my family and friends…but soon they won’t have to worry about me anymore, because this is one thing I don’t plan to ruin._

The Prophecy. Just another thing in my life I’ve horribly miscalculated and misinterpreted. The Father will kill the Son. _ruin_ How was I to know it could be stopped?

_I wonder how long it will take for him to find me, lying in one of the hundreds of rooms in his hotel. How long will it take him to realize that I’m even gone?_

Connor was taken from me, just like I took him from Angel. That bitch took him _gone_ and slit my throat. Left me there to die in the dark, in the dirt. But Connor came back, all grown up and hating Angel. God, how I wish I hated Angel. Then all of it, none of it would matter. But I can’t. I love him, and he hates me, and I can’t handle it.

_Just a simple flick of the wrist, vertical lines parallel to the arm, a spurt of color._

If only he understood.

_Blood, he understands blood. Maybe when I’m covered in it, he’ll understand me._

The room’s growing dark.

_Red everywhere._ dark

The world’s going away.

_It hurts. Why does it hurt so much…_

 

~Fini~

 

But suicides have a special language.  
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.  
They never ask Why Build?  
-Anne Sexton


End file.
